What Makes A Man
by Hidge
Summary: Whatever he was feeling made him want to retreat to his bedroom for hours and never leave; it also made him want to snap Steve Rogers like a small, human twig. Even synthetic beings get jealous.


**A/N:** I just have so many Scarlet Vision ideas. It's a problem. There's something about Vision being jealous that is particularly cute. Enjoy! :)

* * *

Vision hummed along with the soft jazz playing over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s kitchen speakers as he stirred his pot of Coq Au Vin. It was certainly a difficult and complicated dish, but he was trying to expand his range of skill in the kitchen. He found it both enjoyable and relaxing. Cooking also took his mind off of things that caused him far more distress.

"How's dinner coming, Vision?" Rhodey called out from the living room.

"It is coming along quite well, Colonel Rhodes!" He answered enthusiastically. He recognized that the sauce needed to thicken a bit more, but the chicken was almost done. He was confident that the meal would taste more than adequate.

The telltale sound of a Breaking News bulletin on the television diverted Vision's attention from the stove. "Ex-Avengers sighting in Morocco!"

Vision gently laid down the wooden spoon that he was holding and glided until he was in a better position to see the television, hovering behind the sofa that Colonel Rhodes and Mr. Stark occupied. The television showed blurred, grainy pictures of Mr. Wilson walking down a busy street wearing a leather jacket and a baseball cap, then Miss Romanoff with short blonde hair in a beige coat and skin-tight jeans, and then Captain Rogers. He looked strange with a full beard, almost unrecognizable, but Vision supposed that was the point. The next, and last, photo showed Captain Rogers sitting at an outdoor café with _Wanda_. His synthetic core tightened, if it was a heart it would have skipped an involuntary beat, before his eyes fully processed the image. Captain Rogers had his arm wrapped around Wanda's small shoulders, she was leaning into his side, and she looked _happy_. He felt an odd clenching in his abdomen and he lost control of his density enough that he slipped through the floor up to his knees before he recalibrated.

The discomforting photograph stayed on the screen while the voiceover spoke words like fugitives, rogue mission, dormant Hydra cells, escaped without incident, current whereabouts unknown.

Vision just stared. He knew that he would feel different if he hadn't seen Wanda since Leipzig, but he had, several times. They had…he supposed rendezvous would be an apt word. His visits with Wanda were a secret from all of the Avengers, current and former. They had certainly gotten closer, and there was something that kept pulling them back together. Vision had been under the impression, thanks to literature and film, that whatever that _something_ was had to be special. The kind of special that, despite being synthetic, made his palms sweat, his useless stomach flip, and his knees weak whenever he was in Wanda's proximity. Sometimes, the way that Wanda smiled at him made him consider the possibility that she experienced the same symptoms.

But was it possible…?

"Captain America and the Scarlet Witch are looking pretty cozy," the news anchor whistled. "Is there an unlikely romance brewing perhaps?"

They certainly seemed to think so.

Vision didn't like this new feeling; he didn't like it at all. Whatever he was feeling made him want to retreat to his bedroom for hours and never leave; it also made him want to snap Steve Rogers like a small, human twig.

His increasingly violent imagination was interrupted by Mr. Stark's voice.

"I can't say I'm surprised. Even Steve Rogers can't be a saint forever."

Colonel Rhodes chuckled, but didn't seem much more invested in the subject beyond that.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stark?" He asked in a rather shaky voice.

Tony looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with him. "Wanda's a pretty girl, Vision. Someone was bound to notice."

He frowned as he looked down at his shoes. He had noticed. He had told her so. Was that not enough?

"Good for them," Mr. Stark continued, seemingly unfazed by his dejected reaction. "In this world it's whatever makes you happy." He got up off of the couch and walked towards Vision until he could rest a hand on his shoulder. "Dinner ready?"

Vision didn't exactly have the motivation to perfect his wine based sauce anymore.

* * *

Over the next several days, Vision spent almost all of his time considering Wanda and Captain Rogers' burgeoning romantic relationship. It was all the news seemed to speak of so it wasn't as if he had much choice in the matter. After much anguish, he came to the conclusion that Wanda and Captain Rogers really were a good match. They were both honest, compassionate, and humble. They both shared a very defined sense of right and wrong and had first-hand experience of just how unfair and unjust the world could be. They had both volunteered for experiments in an effort to protect their country, there weren't many who could claim that degree of bravery and selflessness. They both possessed tremendous inner strength, and were fiercely loyal friends.

Vision couldn't believe that he hadn't realized their compatibility sooner.

Despite his simmering jealousy, he still greatly admired and respected Captain Rogers. He was a fine leader, and a fine person. He could not imagine the man treating Wanda with less than an ounce of the kindness and veneration that she deserved. Captain Rogers was a true gentleman, and a hero.

And who was he? Some sort of creation that brought together Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Ultron, J.A.R.V.I.S., Dr. Cho, Thor, and the Mind Stone. He didn't even know _what_ he was. He wasn't quite a robot, but he wasn't a man either. Who was he to vie for Wanda Maximoff's affection?

He was rather forlorn by the time he boarded his plane to London. But the relief that washed over him when he stepped off of his train in King's Cross station and spotted her amongst the crowd was unmistakeable.

 _I am here_ – He pushed the thought to the forefront of his mind hoping that she would pick up on it even through the thousands of other thoughts mulling around.

She slowly turned around and greeted him with a wide, beautiful smile. He increased the pace of his stride to reach her and she practically jumped into his arms. He was startled, but in a way that made him release a carefree chuckle. He had to raise his arms to settle underneath her thighs to create the illusion that he needed the extra strength to support her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

"Vizh, you're here," she exhaled so that only he could hear.

He moved his hand to the middle of her back and smiled to himself. "Hello, Wanda. It is good to see you."

"So formal," she giggled.

He bashfully placed her back on the ground and held her by the shoulders, at a literal arm's length. "You are well, yes?"

She frowned as she looked up at him, her cute little knitted hat covering the top of her head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Lying felt unnatural, but appropriate for the moment. "I am happy to be here. What would you like to do today?"

She smiled again and took one of his hands in both of hers. "I found this museum exhibit that I think you'll like. Do you want to go?"

"That sounds lovely. Are you hungry? Would you like to eat first?"

* * *

Vision spent the next three days with his stomach tangled in knots, figuratively of course. He obviously hadn't given it much thought before now, but with his newly acquired knowledge he began to consider that he wasn't behaving appropriately with a woman who was involved in a romantic relationship with someone else. He cooked Wanda meals, and he held hands with her while they walked down the street, and he sat next to her in her bed and read while she slept, he even held her at times. He doubted that Captain Rogers would be happy if he knew about his behaviour, and his _feelings_. He was certainly not behaving like a gentleman.

And he could not place any blame on Wanda, it wasn't her fault. Although he had only known her brother for mere hours, he had seen them together. They had physically leaned on each other for protection and support. The very first time that he had noticed Pietro Maximoff it had been because of the background movement when Wanda stepped closer to him. When one twin moved, so did the other. They were like magnets. He had seen Pietro assure her with a gentle squeeze of her hand or a kiss to her temple. Physical affection wasn't always a sign of romantic interest; he should have remembered that. Wanda wasn't wired that way. If she cared about someone then she touched them, and he had unknowingly filled an irreplaceable familial void in her heart.

But he had no idea what his next course of action should be. What was the proper protocol in this scenario?

"Okay," Wanda sighed in exasperation as she watched him cook. "What's wrong? You've been acting weird since you stepped off that train."

"Weird?" He questioned.

She nodded in confirmation. "Yes, you haven't been acting like yourself."

"And what does that mean exactly?" He pressed.

She frowned before she spoke again. "It means that it doesn't seem like you want to be here. You've been distant."

"Distant?" He was not intentionally trying to answer every question with a question, he just needed clarification.

She stepped around the small island to stand next to him and he reflexively took a step backwards. "You just did it again," she said with a frown and a soft voice. "Vision, what's going on? Talk to me."

It appeared as if he could avoid the displeasing topic no longer.

He took another step backwards and lowered his head in shame. "I have made a terrible mistake I'm afraid," he mumbled.

"What is it?" She persisted.

"I believe I have developed emotions that you do not reciprocate. I am very sorry."

Wanda stepped up to him again and placed her hands on his sides. "Vizh," she whispered, "look at me."

He really didn't want to, for perhaps the first time in his life. He didn't want to see her expression when she told him that she was in love with someone else. He knew that he didn't deserve her, but that didn't stop him from wanting her. He didn't want to see her kind eyes and soft smile as she tried to preserve his dignity. He suddenly felt an odd, disturbing sensation behind his eyeballs and he immediately became concerned that there was something wrong with his vision. How ironic.

She moved both of her hands up to cup his face and he still refused to make eye contact with her. He firmly closed his eyes and, when he spoke, his voice was almost an incoherent mumble. "I would like to leave now." That sensation behind his eyes was becoming more irritating and his instincts were telling him that escape was the solution. He phased out of her hold and took another step backwards.

"Vision," she called, the worry evident in her voice.

He couldn't even be bothered to use the door. His yearning to flee was even greater than his desire to maintain his human disguise. He flew to the window, phased through the concrete wall, and took off into the dark night sky.

* * *

When he returned, several hours later, sopping wet and chagrined, but feeling level-headed, he found Wanda sitting on the end of the bed chewing her fingernails.

"Vision!" She yelled as she jumped to her feet. "Where were you? I was worried sick! I couldn't read you."

He contritely wrung his hands in front of him and shuffled towards her. "I am sorry for causing you distress. I flew, quite far away. It helps clear my head."

She closed the distance between them and tightly wrapped her arms around him, with her head resting on his chest. "Are you ready to talk to me?" She questioned in a whisper.

He nodded. "Yes, I am. I realized somewhere over Denmark that I was being quite selfish." Their embrace relaxed so that he could hold both of her hands and look down to read her expressions while they spoke. "You are very important to me, Wanda, and I wish to have you in my life in whatever capacity possible. I should not have left so dramatically, that was quite immature, and it's wrong of me to punish you because you do not return my feelings. Will you accept my apology?"

Wanda just looked incredibly confused. "I don't understand. What are you talking about, Vizh?"

"You don't have to keep it a secret from me." He smiled softly, understandingly. "I will not break your trust. I am happy if you are happy. You and Captain Rogers are a very aesthetically pleasing pair. That is what they say isn't it?"

Wanda's brow furrowed further and she placed a firm hand on his chest. "Vision," she dragged out, "I am so confused."

He could feel her gently probing his mind and he noticed her frown when she was unable to access all of his thoughts. "I don't want you to see everything," he confessed shyly. "It will not help matters; it will only make them worse."

"Make what worse?"

He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. "You are my best friend. My feelings for you are inconsequential while your heart belongs to someone else."

She pushed on his chest in frustration and he could see her eyes alight with crimson. "Can you just stop coddling me for a minute and tell me what the fuck you're talking about?" She exclaimed.

Vision's eyes widened in shock. He had heard her angry, irritated, and scared before, but he wasn't sure if he had ever heard her curse. "Y-you and Captain Rogers?" He replied hesitantly. "I saw the photos, they're all over the news. The two of you are now involved in a romantic relationship, yes?"

"No!" She answered without a trace of doubt or hesitation in her voice.

His mouth dropped open and he knew that he looked like one of those animations. "Oh," he stated, at a complete loss for words.

They stared at each other in complete silence for several moments. He had no idea what to say, or feel, and Wanda looked astounded, and maybe a little hurt. But then her face slowly formed an expression that could only be identified from his database as smug. She stepped closer to him and moved her hands over the large plates of vibranium on his chest beneath his sweater. She tilted her head back and looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes.

"Vision," she began in a voice dripping with sweetness, "were you jealous?"

"I-uh, no, I-I was…concerned is really a better word," he rushed to respond. "Jealousy is so…so…so…"

"Human?" She supplied with a grin.

He could feel the cheeks of his human form flush. "Yes, I suppose it is."

She laughed, and her hands slowly moved up over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. "You silly toaster," she teased. "You should have just come out and said it." She pressed herself against him and he could feel this odd vibration beneath his skin. "I'm not interested in Steve," she told him quietly. "He's like an old-fashioned, overprotective uncle or something. I dated a boy or two in Sokovia, but I've only ever been attracted to one man."

He pursed his lips in disappointment. "Oh," he repeated.

She giggled quite loudly and rested her forehead on his chest. "Oh Vision, for a super intelligent life form, you can be very dense."

His brow furrowed in confusion as she stepped out of his hold and backed towards the bed. "I can alter my density," he stated bashfully.

She giggled again as she perched on the end of the bed and pulled her large sweater over her head. Vision reflexively looked around the room so that his eyes landed everywhere except for the woman undressing in front of him. He was sure that staring was not proper.

"I've only been trying to get the message across to you for months," she sighed.

"Now it is my turn to be confused," he muttered as he stared at his shoes.

He heard her release an exasperated groan before she spoke in an authoritative voice. "Take off your wet clothes and get in the bed, Vizh."

He stopped his logical thought process from overanalyzing the moment. He immediately phased out of his clothes, and his human disguise, and glided towards the bed. He slipped underneath the covers and she curled into him. His nerve endings were not ready for the warmth of her skin against his own. She tangled her legs with his and rested her chin on his chest. She smiled up at him as she ran the tip of her finger along the edge of a strip of vibranium. It was surprisingly sensitive.

"Your feelings aren't so one-sided, Vizh. I was going to tell you that but then you flew away," she teased.

"I am sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I was feeling _overwhelmed_."

"Yeah, I could tell," she responded quietly. "Is this overwhelming?" He slowly shook his head. "Can I kiss you?"

He had been thinking about kissing Wanda for the better part of eighty-three days. He nodded and threaded a hand through her hair to pull her face closer to his. She pressed her mouth to his and it was unlike anything that he had ever felt before. It was like all of his favourite sensations and experiences rolled into one, and his systems seemed to slip into some strange autopilot feature.

When he reopened his eyes, he was above her and she had one hand on his cheek and the other resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were wide, a tad startled, but her breathing had picked up in a way that he understood was favourable. He tilted his head in bewilderment. "I am sorry. I don't know how that happened."

She squeezed his shoulder before running her hand provocatively down his side. "It's okay," she answered softly. "No need to rush."

His gaze dropped down her body until it landed on where his hand was gripping her hip, and he could already see the bruises forming on her lovely pale skin. He felt that uncomfortable sensation behind his eyes again. It forced him to swallow even though he didn't need to biologically. He shifted to lie on his back and created some space between them.

"Wanda, perhaps this is not a good idea after all," he stated regretfully.

He was not designed or made for such a primal, human relationship. Clearly he couldn't even touch her without hurting her.

She curled into him once more. "You don't need to be afraid of hurting me," she whispered. "I can take care of myself."

He knew that she was much more powerful than he was. His body remembered falling through concrete floors. "Oh, I wasn't insinuating that—" He was interrupted by her mouth on his - it was certainly distracting.

"I want what I want," she spoke against his lips. "And I definitely do not want Steve Rogers."

He was able to chuckle about it now that they were lying in bed together without their clothes on. "I jumped to conclusions. It was hard to process."

She nodded in understanding. "Just ask next time," she encouraged. "Or do something about it. I think you would still be floating around this apartment brooding if I hadn't stripped." She laughed happily, surely at his expression of embarrassment, as she shifted on top of him. "Vizh," she exhaled.

He stared up at her with wide, reverent eyes. She was so stunning, and for whatever reason, one that he was not willing to dwell on right now, she was choosing to share this special intimacy with him.

"I want you," she breathed with darkened eyes. "You're so kind to me, and sweet, generous, considerate, more than any man I've ever met."

"But Wanda," he interjected softly, "I am not a man."

"I know."

And yet she agreed with him with a soft smile, and in a way that made him feel relaxed, comforted, and masculine. It did not set his mouth into a frown and fill him with an unbearable emptiness. Wanda saw his difference and instead of it repulsing her, it drew her in.

"I want you too," he reciprocated.

Her smile widened as she leaned over him, her hair falling like a beautiful dark curtain between them and the rest of the room, and she slowly joined their mouths again. "But Vizh," she giggled between kisses, "I'm pretty sure only men get jealous."

He rolled his eyes in a way that he hoped came across as good-natured. "Can we forget about that now?"

She laughed again. "Never."

He sealed their mouths together before she could tease him again and it seemed like the most enjoyable way to solve the problem.

* * *

 **A/N:** Please review! :)


End file.
